


The warrior

by moomooma55



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, F/M, First work - Freeform, Gods and Goddesses, I Tried, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, Lesbian Character, Pining, Royalty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-10 01:21:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15280449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moomooma55/pseuds/moomooma55
Summary: She still dreams of them sometimes. When she’s at her weakest.A story of pining, discovery and acceptance.





	The warrior

**Author's Note:**

> Cross posted on my Wattpad under the same username.
> 
> So this was inspired by someone telling me that princesses had to marry warriors. Do things out of spite!

There once was a kingdom of great prosperity. The people were happy and lived well, leaving no one on the streets. Ruling over this kingdom was a wise old king who was nearing the end of his days. His daughter and her chosen husband would take over his kingdom after he passed, and had been training years to do so. The people loved them, gifts were often given for good wedding tidings, and many a priest blessed their union. All rejoiced in the couple's happy relationship, save for one woman.

The king, to teach the princess humility, had sent her to a village school. The same school that the woman and the future king-to-be went to. When the woman thought back on her school days, the only things she could remember were brown curls bouncing in the wind. She would recall pale pink lips, parted in laughter. She thought of nimble fingers surprisingly good at holding both a paintbrush and a sword. And sometimes, when she was at her weakest, she lay in bed, imagining that hair was still in her life, before waking up the next morning and remembering that those nimble fingers held other hands, those pale pink lips did not seek out hers, that at night brown hair tangled with gold. The woman did not much like thinking back on her school days.

Every time the couple's names were said together, a sharp pain filled the woman's body. Every time they were mobbed coming to visit the village from the castle, her heart twisted. Every priest that blessed their marriage tore a piece of her soul from her body. Till she was only made of pain, a heart twisted beyond repair, soulless. The woman removed herself from the community, and left her house only when necessary. Whenever she made an appearance, whispers walked behind her. Murmuring meandered by her side. The children were twice as bold and half as understanding. They called her witch to her face. So witch she became.

The witch caught the eye of a god, and before the next harvest, she had learnt as much as she could. When the kingdom mourned the passing of the king, the witch was to busy basking in the glow of her newfound power to notice. On a rare trip out, she caught news of the upcoming royal wedding flying around the village. It was only then that she felt grief. The news shocked her, and she ran back to her house before calling upon her godly friend. He held her as she cried, and vowed to find a way to give her back her happiness.

The god was one of war, and thought little of consequence. He thought not of the kingdom. He certainly did not consider the welfare of the prince-to-be. He prompted a foreign king to attack, and planned to make his move during battle when he was at his strongest. He had not planned for the prospective prince to lead the charge. The prince fought valiantly, his golden locks flying free, red mouth tight with concentration, calloused fingers wrapped around his sword. He fought alongside the princess, backs together, synchronized as only true friends and lovers can be. The god knew what he had to do.

The princess screamed in anguish when she noticed her beloved was facing no mere mortal. It was a scream the whole land heard, and the remains of the witch's heart stirred. No. She had not meant to cause pain. She used her magic to don the disguise of a soldier, and tore her way to the the battle field. The prince had learnt all there was to know about sword play, but he was not a god. As the prince looked up, defeated, at the god and waited for a final blow, he heard the clang of steel. He saw a soldier draw the god away. The god had trained the witch well, taught her all his tricks, and she had learnt others. The god recognized her, and spat at her, asking her why. Why would she fight him? These people hated her, they didn't deserve her, they mocked her love, and he was helping her damn it.

No, said she, they didn't hate her. They were wary. Yes, they deserved her, she could give help to them and others like she wasn't able to receive. They mocked her desire to tear apart true love and selfishly insert herself.

As the god studied the warrior before him, he knew he had succeeded in his quest. He smiled, and vanished mid strike, leaving a young couple in love and a woman who was maybe a little okay with that.

The warrior went to the most beautiful wedding she had ever seen, because while she loved the princess dearly, she was strong enough to let the other make her own choices and find purpose elsewhere. As the years went on, the kingdom flourished under the love of the new queen and king, helped along the way by a woman who was known as a witch, a warrior, and a healer. A woman who would, after a long hard day of helping those who needed it most, go home to her lovely wife.


End file.
